


All The Way Home

by bluflamingo



Category: The Bourne Legacy (2012)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Infertility, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 00:43:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13042962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluflamingo/pseuds/bluflamingo
Summary: Three things Marta didn't expect after she went on the run with Aaron.





	All The Way Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shell/gifts).



When they're not literally running for their lives, it turns out that Marta and Aaron have complementary life skills.

Aaron fakes their paperwork when they wind up in a mid-sized town in Queensland; Marta scours real estate listings and finds them a two-bed apartment with a tiny balcony.

Marta finds them jobs; Aaron builds a whole network of non-existent referees to get them hired.

Aaron sets up two dead drops and a second bank account across town; Marta draws up their budget for the next six months.

Marta makes the first move, kissing Aaron after dinner one warm night, the windows wide open and the air smelling of passionflowers.

Aaron smiles, and lets her take the lead, that night and for weeks of nights after, sprawled out in bed while she sucks him off, moaning with her hands in his hair, guiding the movements of his head between her legs, cuddling close when she wants him there and tipping his head back for kisses when she walks by the couch on her way to bed.

They're in bed one Friday night, nowhere to be and nothing to do but enjoy the feel of skin against skin, the sleepy drag of late night making out slowly building into something more. Aaron trails his fingers up the inside of Marta's thigh, calluses making her shiver as he skates his fingers higher, soft between her legs. 

"That's good," she tells him, low voiced right in his ear, making him shiver in return. "Just like that."

Aaron hums against her neck, crooking his fingers a little. Marta just barely has time to tense before he's stopping, drawing his hand back. "No?" he asks.

Marta shakes her head, presses a kiss to Aaron's forehead. "I don't like that," she says firmly. It's taken her a long time to get to being able to say it at all, let alone able to say it like that, but she's trusted Aaron ever since he threatened to leave her behind if she couldn't help him. "Being penetrated, I don't like that."

"Okay." Aaron doesn't make eye contact, just eases himself down to lie against her. He's still hard; Marta pets his hair a little, unsure whether they're stopping. He doesn't seem angry, or disappointed, or… anything that she can read on him, really. After a while, very quietly, he says, "I do."

All of Marta's anger at every guy who ever gave her shit for not wanting it swells inside her for a moment, ready to burst out at Aaron. But as she takes a breath, she feels how tense he's gone against her, like he's braced for exactly what she's about to do. She takes another breath and reminds herself that this is Aaron, the guy who rarely even initiates kissing. He's not going to push like that. "What do you mean?" she asks instead. 

He still doesn't make eye contact. "Being penetrated," he says quietly. "I like it. If you ever… wanted to do it that way instead."

They haven't talked about their sex lives before each other, and Marta wishes, a little, that they had. This doesn't seem the time to ask all the questions she suddenly has: how he knows he likes it, who's done that with him before, hell, she's never even asked if he's straight, just assumed. "Look at me," she says. 

It takes a minute, but the worry in Aaron's eyes clears as soon as he makes eye contact. She smiles at him, nudges her nose against his when he smiles back. "I've never tried that," she says. "But I'd really like to."

*

Even after nearly six months in town, it's still not safe for them to have the kind of routine that would allow for a favourite café, but if they did have one, it'd probably be the vintage tea shop on the beach a couple of miles from their apartment. Aaron carefully makes sure they don't establish any kind of regular visiting schedule to the place, but it's not uncommon, as summer fades into fall, for them to wind up there on a weekend that they don't have any other plans. 

It's an early Sunday evening, and they're sitting on the deck out front of the tea shop. Marta's reading one of the popular science magazines that are all she allows herself of her past life, her iced coffee melting at her elbow. Sitting close enough that she can let their arms rest together if she wants, Aaron is sucking up the last dregs of an alarmingly orange smoothie and squinting over the beach after forgetting his sunglasses. He's not doing the statue impression he does when he's worried, so Marta's relaxed too, barely paying him any attention until he huffs out a soft laugh.

When she looks over, he tips his chin at the beach, where a toddler of indeterminate gender is making their way up the beach, dragging an inflatable that's easily twice their size with them. 

"You want a unicorn inflatable?" Marta asks, though she's got no idea what it actually is.

Aaron laughs again. "Maybe next summer." He doesn't look away from the toddler, and Marta feels her stomach twist with dread. "I never really thought about it before," he says, obviously not talking about fantastical inflatable characters. 

Marta knows she should have said this before, knows that there had to have been a better moment than this golden evening, the simple happiness of it, but, foolishly, she'd hoped that it would never come up. There'd been no need to have the conversation before sex, and even if there had been the need, she'd assumed that their status as fugitives from the US government would be an automatic reason for any conversation be short and "no."

"Marta?" Aaron's looking at her now, face twisted the way it gets when he hasn't quite figured out something he thinks is important. He reaches for her hand, and freezes when she doesn't let him take it. 

"We can't," she says, unable to think of a better way of saying it. "I mean – you can't. I don't know about me."

"Can't… You tested for that? Whether I'm…" She can practically see him mentally flicking through the catalogue of visits, all the tests they ran. They didn't just take blood samples and he knows it. 

It would be so easy to let him think that's the answer, barely even a lie, when they _did_ test the fertility of all the Outcome agents. Before and after the inclusion of that little refinement in the pills, way back at the beginning of the programme. She remembers looking at the results, comparing the before and after and being proud that it had worked. 

Now, she feels a little sick. Aaron's still looking at her, obviously reading enough of the story on her face for lying not to even be an option. "Oh," he says softly. He's still for a moment, like he's waiting – hoping, maybe – that she's going to say he's wrong, and when she doesn't, it's like something gives way inside of him. 

"I'm sorry," she says. What else can she say? She was there for the science, and now the science is all that's left. 

When Aaron reaches for her hand again, she takes it. His fingers are cold against hers, but he doesn't look away, and she doesn't either, just lets him see how sorry she is, for all of it. 

He smiles in the end, just at the edges of his mouth, and doesn't turn back to the beach until all the kids have been packed into cars and driven away. 

They never talk about it again. 

*

They spend their third New Year's Eve in Queensland on the roof of the apartment building they moved into over the summer. Marta's pretty sure they're not supposed to be up there, but Aaron guided her through climbing a narrow ladder, then produced a bottle of champagne, and she wasn't going to argue.

The fireworks start ten minutes before midnight; Marta tips back, her head in Aaron's lap, just watching the bursts of light. Aaron strokes his fingers through her hair, smiling down at her when she catches his eye. He looks relaxed in a way she's gotten increasingly used to seeing; settled.

"It's pretty," she says.

Aaron bends down to kiss her forehead, still smiling, and doesn't say anything. Marta takes his hand, threading their fingers together, as the fireworks build up. She doesn't need a watch to tell her when the year ticks over, the fireworks hitting a crescendo.

She kisses the back of Aaron's hand and presses it to her cheek. Aaron squeezes her hand, still doesn't say anything, just looks at her and smiles.

"We made it," she says softly, and finally, finally, knows it's true.


End file.
